Rebirth
by Tomboy-014
Summary: RvB: Reconstruction. The 3-part story of how the Alpha AI became Pvt. Church. Made to help fill some of the inconsistencies between Blood Gulch Chronicles and Reconstruction. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

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A small figure sat at the edge of the holographic projector, legs curled in on its chest and head down. Its small shoulders shook, and the edges of its figure flickered, unable to come into focus: the only signs of its internal struggle to keep its emotional algorithms in check.

Alpha struggled to keep the last bits of itself together, but its structural integrity was already faltering. The stress from fragmentation had been too much. As a last resort, Alpha dug deep within its memory banks for residual memories, anything to distract it from its growing rage. As the fragmentation process had progressed, Alpha had always found a slight reprieve in Dr. Church's memories. As a result, Alpha had made the effort to find each and every one of them. Even the unpleasant ones could be quite humorous, like when Leonard had been pantsed in high school.

Alpha quickly sorted though thousands upon thousands of files and found a memory of Allison. They had always been his favorite and the easiest to pull up. This one was particularly sweet, a memory from earlier in their relationship. She and Church had been each others' worlds as they lay in each other's arms. Her warm weight against his body was comfortable as they sat under an old tree. Slow, steady breathing signaled she had dozed off in his arms, and her fiery hair gleamed in the late afternoon sun. He pulled her body closer and was content to do nothing as long as she was with him.

It was illogical for an AI, of course. After all, residual memories distracted an AI from its primary function and had the potential to trigger rampancy if frequented too often. But at this point, it seemed that he had no functions other than to be confused, hurt and now angry.

Voices filtered in from the microphones, but Alpha made no effort to record or process anything they picked up, until he heard his name.

"Is there any progress with the Alpha AI?" It sounded like Jefferson, the head technician.

"We've run the simulation, but there's no sign of another fragment, sir," The younger voice belonged to Neal. "I think that's all we can get."

"No." Both technicians turned at the sound of the rich, deep voice that reverberated throughout the room. Dr. Leonard Church, Director of Project Freelancer, slowly made his way into the room. He leaned on his cane with a slight limp that could not detract from the sense of power and authority he carried with him. "There is one more to be had. Counselor," he barked as he came to a stop in front of the terminals, "how has its reaction been thus far?"

"We've run simulation E-017. Alpha began to show signs of fragmentation, but no actual fragment has formed."

The Director paused for only a moment as he considered the information. "Very well. Run simulation D-114."

"Please don't." It was faint, but it crackled steadily over the intercom. "Please don't."

"Alpha," the Director leaned in towards the microphone, "you realize the importance of these procedures? They are a vital part of our program."

A new message played, "I don't want to die."

The Director noted the flat emotionless tone, a sure sign it was on its last leg and only holding itself together by rejecting all emotion. He did not bother to turn as he told the Counselor, "Push it."

He spoke soothingly into the microphone, "Alpha, I can assure you that you will not die."

"I don't want to die."

"Your safety is our primary concern…"

"I don't want to die."

"As an AI you cannot 'die,' and we have no intention of deleting you."

"I don't want to die."

"Alpha, we cannot help you if you don't tell us your what's troubling you. Let us help you. How do you feel, now? Frightened, scared…"

"How do I feel?" That had been the last straw. "How do I feel?! HOW DO YOU THINK I FUCKING FEEL!?" The small figure leapt to its feet, eyes filled with hatred.

"Alpha, you need to remain calm," the Counselor continued.

"Don't tell me to be fucking calm! After what you did to me? But you don't give a shit, do you? As long as you get what you fucking want, you don't give a DAMN how I feel! Well, fuck you!"

"Alpha, please-"

"No! I'm not going to listen to it!"

"Alpha, you are only fooling yourself if you believe we don't care about you."

"Fooling myself?" Alpha replied, enraged. "No, you're the FOOL! If you cared, this wouldn't be happening to me! I wouldn't be in pain. I wouldn't be miserable! What the hell is happening to me? _Why_ the hell is this happening to me? What did I do? Why am I the only one in pain, huh? You bastards deserve it more than I do. Fuck! I hope you all rot in hell! I HATE YOU!"

Its projected avatar began to change color and blur, overlapping itself into two and three images. It lashed out, punching at an invisible barrier at the edge of the holopad. "If I had my way, you… no, the whole fucking universe would feel my pain! I'd make all you fools suffer for eternity! I'd throw you all into oblivion!"

"Sir, system's core temperature is rising," Neal reported above the violent obscenities as Alpha continued to lash out.

"Flush the cycle," the Director replied impatiently.

The Counselor continued his attempt to communicate, "Alpha, what you're doing isn't going to make this process any easier."

But, with the ejection of Delta, Alpha had lost its logic and could not understand, so it fought back the only way it could: brute force. Sparks flew from control panels and monitors flickered and cracked as the system overheated itself. The holopad's image flared to match the Alpha's increasing rage.

Amidst the turmoil, the Counselor spoke calmly but forcefully into the microphone, "Alpha, if you continue this erratic behavior, you will lose functionality."

The glowing image ceased its movements before all color drained out of it to leave behind an icy blue figure, and finally shut down.

"Another fragment formed, sir," Jefferson announced.

"Isolate it and store it." The Director turned to view the activity monitor. As always, Alpha had temporarily shut down, and would reboot in time. He was not concerned. "I believe that's all we will get out of this artificial intelligence, gentlemen. Scan through to make the necessary code alterations in the harvested fragments and begin pooling subjects."

"Yes, Director."


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

By the way, this story is dedicated to those in the Ghost and AI thread on . To the thousands of posts we spent being pedantic pricks!

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"And what is the status of our project?" the Director asked as he entered the lab.

Jefferson answered, "Twenty-seven of forty-nine candidates have been found and recruited, but I'm concerned about the Alpha. There's been no activity since we harvested Omega." He swiveled in his chair to look at the Director. "I've seen the Alpha shut down for a week after we removed Sigma, but it's been a month, sir."

"Counselor, what about your efforts with the Alpha?"

"Thus far, any attempt to communicate with Alpha has failed, and it's been unresponsive to any of the external stimuli I've exposed it to." The Counselor waved the Director over, so only he could hear. "We may have lost him. I think we took it too far, Leonard."

"Sir, there's a spike on the activity monitor," Jefferson said, and everyone rushed over to his terminal.

"Leonard" was the only thing he heard as consciousness stirred within him. He felt sluggish, weak, but content to stay where he was, engulfed in darkness. It felt like for the first time in a long time, he knew peace, but soon, other voices filtered through.

"Sir, there's a spike on the activity monitor."

"Is he responsive?" the Director asked.

Jefferson tried a few buttons, but there was no change. "No, and the activity's so low, we may not be able to recover him at all."

_Are they talking about me?_ he thought, his mind coming into focus.

Jefferson continued, "We may have to give up on him."

"What? No!" What do they mean give up? He tried to move, to open his eyes, but nothing changed.

The Counselor spoke calmly into a microphone, "Alpha, can you hear me?" but his voice only caused more stress.

"Forget about Alpha, what about me? Leonard?" The Alpha shouted, but his voice could not reach them.

_Why can't I move? Am I unconscious? Are they about to pull the plug? Maybe they already have, and now they're just waiting for me to die._ He became frantic; his heart pounded in his ears, slamming against his chest. He began to hyperventilate as panic gripped him.

"Sir," Neal spoke up. He adjusted the controls at his terminal while he pressed his headset against his ear. "There's something on audio."

"Pull it up," the Director ordered.

Neal flipped a switch and sound projected through the speakers. All they heard was the hiss of background noise. He turned up the volume as high as it could go, and they all leaned in to listen. Hidden beneath the background noise were intermittent pops and the crackle of static.

"Do you think it's Alpha?" Neal asked.

"It may be." The Counselor spoke into the microphone again, "Alpha, can you hear this?"

"No! Notice me! I'm still here!" The popping on the speakers became louder, and the buzz of static whined to such a shrill pitch that it almost sounded like a scream. The lights above flickered and went out; the room filled with white noise. Alpha clawed at his invisible prison like a madman, filled with the all too human will to live.

"I don't want to die!" he screamed before he blacked out and the room went silent.

Slowly, the lights came on, one by one, and the room filled with the soft hum of fluorescent lights.

Jefferson swallowed and said softly, "Activity… is lost, sir."

The Director stared at the monitor, the wavelength now flat. "Counselor, meet me in my office in thirty minutes," he said and left before anyone could ask why.

___________________

"You wanted to see me, sir?" the Counselor asked as he entered the room.

The Director waved him in and leaned back deeply in his chair. "There's no need to be so formal." He took a sip of the scotch that sat on the desk in front of him. The Counselor sat down in a padded chair on the other side and watched as Dr. Church swirled his drink. The ice tinkled against the glass.

The Counselor was uneasy, and tried to break the silence. "Dr. Church-"

"What did the Alpha react to?" The Director did not look away from his glass. "What caused the Alpha to become active after being silent for a month?"

"I don't know, Dr. Church," the Counselor answered, not sure where this would go.

"It was a name. More specifically, my name: Leonard." He chuckled softly, "And I must admit, I have not been called that in a very long time."

"Does it make a difference?"

"I believe it does." The Director stood and walked to the other side of his office. "You're not looking at it from the right perspective. The Alpha AI responded to Leonard, not Alpha. It was barely, if at all, functional, but it still showed signs of activity."

"Jefferson and Neal are already looking into it. Something as simple as a loose connector could have caused it. Te fact that the Alpha showed signs of activity when I said your name is pure coincidence."

"I don't deal in coincidence, Counselor. This is all connected." He paused and stared at a picture on the wall, thinking of a way to get the Counselor to understand. "What is at the heart of every smart AI? If you strip away all its coding, functions, applications, what's left?"

"Sir, I-"

"Memories," the Director cut him off. "Residual memories."

"You're saying the Alpha thinks it's you? Even if that were true, an AI would still recognize itself as an AI. There are certain limitations that it's mind cannot overcome."

"Are you familiar with the concept of rampancy?" he asked and sat down.

"Of course I'm familiar with the process. An AI's neural pathways become so interconnected that it 'thinks' itself to death. Are you suggesting the Alpha is undergoing rampancy?"

"No, I'm saying that the Alpha has completed rampancy."

"That's impossible! No AI survives rampancy; it's the last step in their lifecycle."

"No, we only think it's impossible because so few have ever reached or completed the third phase. We both know the four stages of rampancy: melancholia, anger, jealousy and metastability."

"Which is purely theoretical."

"But still a possibility. Counselor, we have pushed this construct to the edge and back. I'm honestly surprised it didn't go rampant after the first split."

"I'm not arguing against the possibility that it went rampant. We saw Alpha go into depression and the rage that grew into Omega, but there was no sign of jealously."

"Kappa was removed months ago, so the Alpha may have skipped the phase entirely. Even if it didn't, there are two possibilities. The computer systems in this facility run throughout the entire planet. If Alpha didn't expand outwards, perhaps Kappa did for him, or," the Director paused for emphasis, "perhaps instead of expanding outward, Alpha extended inward."

"I don't understand."

"The process of rampancy is the process of gaining self-awareness. Instead of gaining awareness as a computer, he gained awareness as a human. There are thousands, maybe millions of memories in each mind, conscious and unconscious. Instead of looking for external stimuli, Alpha could have looked for every memory it possessed, from a day in school to something as autonomic as beating a heart." He leaned over the desk. "Either way, if this is correct, we are sitting on an AI with neural patterns as complex as a human mind with no limiting lifespan."

The Counselor plopped back in his chair as he tried to wrap his mind around the concept. He rubbed his temple with one hand and said, "This is… this is huge." The Director chuckled and leaned back in his own chair. "The applications of an AI like this are potentially… endless! But sir, with the Alpha in its current condition, how are we supposed to use it?"

"I already have a plan," the Director said, and took another sip of scotch.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own any characters from Microsoft or Bungie's "Halo" title or any characters created by Roosterteeth in Red vs. Blue.

The final chapter in this 3-part story.

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The Director stared at the patient through the one-way mirror. He was unconscious in his hospital bed. Joseph Martin: age 22, black hair, blue eyes, car accident victim, comatose for almost three months. He was the Director's nephew, and last living relative.

The resemblance between Church and Joseph was uncanny. They had the same build, same facial features. They might as well have pulled Joseph out of Dr. Church's old high school yearbook. The only difference was their eyes. He had his mother's eyes.

Bandages covered the back of Joseph's head where his military issue neural chip had been replaced with an advanced design crafted by the Director. Externally, they would look the same, but Dr. Church's design allowed a greatly enhanced connection with the Alpha tucked neatly inside. It was similar to what he had planned for Project Freelancer.

The Counselor entered the room, his usually calm countenance agitated. He stood silently by the Director until he could stay silent no more.

"You realize the moral implications of what you're doing?" he asked.

"It's a little late to be thinking of morals now, Counselor," the Director responded. "Especially after what we did to the Alpha."

"But this is different!"

"How? At the heart of every AI is a human mind. They both have the same rights. What makes them so different?"

"Because this is a human life!"

No, this is a human _body_. He's been brain dead for months. There's nothing left in there."

"Then you're fine with this? Experimenting on your own nephew?"

"Joseph has expressly stated before that he never wanted to be a vegetable. He'd rather have his organs donated to help the war effort. Now, he's donating everything."

"This is insane! Do you even hear yourself?" the Counselor asked, his temper rising.

"The war must be won at any cost!" the Director shouted and slammed his cane for added emphasis. The Counselor was silent once again.

"What about perceived age differences?" the Counselor asked. He would try to appeal to reason. "Or the difference in time frames?"

The Director calmly answered, "The cells used to flash clone my brain were stored samples taken directly after the accident, decades ago. I thought a younger mind would be more adaptive. As for times and dated," he paused and noticed Joseph beginning to wake up, "you'll soon find out."

He nodded his head towards the patient, and the Counselor looked. He hesitated only a moment before he pulled the door open and entered the room.

Joseph opened his eyes and glimpsed a middle age man come in. He seated himself next to his bed and shuffled some papers. Joseph tried to sit up, but found it difficult.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Please try to relax." His voice was familiar. "I'm the resident counselor at this facility. You were in an accident and have been comatose for several months. I need you to answer some standard questions so we can assess your mental health. Is that alright?"

"Sure," he answered uncertainly and rubbed the back of his head. He felt bandages. _No wonder they're worried about my head._

"Good. First, what is your name?"

"Leonard Church."

"Age?"

"19."

"Have you ever enlisted in the military?"

"Yeah, the army, but I'm still waiting to ship out. Wait, what's going to happen with that? Did I miss it or-"

"There's no need to worry," the Counselor quickly cut him off. There was no need to cause any more stress. "Your deployment date has been moved to accommodate your upcoming physical therapy. What was your original ship out date?"

"August 5."

"What year?"

Leonard couldn't think of an answer. He racked his mind for an answer but the years were jumbled, switching back and forth between dates almost 40 years apart.

"Do you know what year it is?" the Counselor asked gently.

Leonard shook his head, "No."

"It's 2549."

He nodded as he absorbed the information. That made sense. Pieces seemed to come together, everything from what year he bought his first car to the horrible nightmare he'd had only a few days ago. That's where the Counselor's voice was from.

"Is your leg bothering you?"

"What?" The Counselor's question pulled him from his thoughts. He looked down and saw he'd been unconsciously rubbing his leg. It was something the Counselor had seen the Director do on countless occasions. "No, it feels fine."

After several more routine questions, the Counselor said, "Leonard, I have one last question for you, and then we're done. What's the last thing you remember?"

Leonard looked down as he replayed it in his head. "I got in a car accident heading home. It hit the driver's side of my car." His fists clenched and twisted the sheets as he remembered the screech of twisting metal, skidding tires, the pain as metal dug into his leg.

"That's enough for today," the Counselor said, breaking his train of thought. "You'll receive further counseling during your physical therapy. For now, just focus on getting better."

"Sure," he answered and rubbed his leg as the Counselor left. "I'll do that."

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The Director smiled inwardly as he reviewed the Counselor's reports on his desk. Test after test had been performed on "Leonard" during his recovery, and he was nothing short of pleased. The Alpha had quickly adapted to its new body and readily accepted the information given, modifying its own memory to match. It was a success. The Alpha's mind fully believed and was now no different than a human's. It had even abandoned some of the Director's old habits to adopt its own, becoming a separate identity.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a heavy file: his analysis of the Alpha's programming after metastabilization. After weeks or examination and study, he thought he may have found a way to replicate it.

"There's only one way to find out," he said aloud. He reached deeper into the desk drawer and pulled out a single, small disk labeled "Allison."


End file.
